Heartache
by procyon
Summary: It's a short fic about losing someone you care about. I don't mention names, but in the reviews you will see who guessed the two characters I was thinking about. Eighty (hash)Brownie points to them!


Okaley dokaley neighboureeno's. If you want to skip this author's note, for it is indeed an author's note, then do so. But be warned: if you do, you might miss out on something. Aw, no you won't, go ahead! 

How come you're still reading? Well, I'm flattered that you are. Now, on to the good part of this author's note. I wrote this during a very boring class *coughenglishcough* with a very boring teacher, whose name I cannot cough, cuz if she finds this site and reads what I _really_ think, I'll be back in my padded room again before you can say snap.

(The rest of the author's note is at the bottom. If you do not read it, I will be forced to sick my tin can on you. Warning: Tin Can may or may not contain various evils, such as Mini-me, Tom Riddle, and Barbara Streisand. You have been warned!)

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You never realize how easy it is for someone to be there one day and then be gone the next. 

That is, until it happens to someone you know and care about. I can remember the day she told me - a day just as normal as any other day I've seen. Maybe I noticed something was off, maybe I didn't, that doesn't matter. 

There was something wrong with her expression. It was locked, locked inside a world of grief that would consume my life, although I still deny that.

I deny a lot of things these days.

Her arms gripped my shoulders tightly. There was no need to tell me: words couldn't describe this. "We're going to be okay. We'll get through this together."

It wasn't until the funeral that I finally had to say it. I'm still not sure if I believe those words, even if they _are_ true.

They wanted me to say something nice about him during the service.

"What can I say?" I asked my mirrored reflection, in the safety of my room. My true feelings were so barbaric, so... wrong. "What can I say? 'You're all wrong. He's not dead, he's still here.' ?" O, how I wished.

Somehow I got through the funeral alright until it was my turn to give the speech. Suddenly I was standing up there at the little makeshift podium. My mouth opened by a will of its' own. I opened up a little piece of paper. It was blank.

"He... he will be missed very much." I fought so hard against the tears that welled up inside of me and slammed against my heart, ripping it in half. It was a very long and painful internal struggle. The feeling of my heart breaking was thratening to consume me.

"We all miss him, we... we _loved_ him... " I stopped there. My throat was stuck, and if I said anything else, I would cry. I couldn't cry- that was what I told myself. You can't cry.

All of this wasn't fair. Not to him... God, why him... not to me, not to any of those grieving faces, the ones that looked at me with such sadness that I felt crushed into the earth by it all.

That night, the pain in my chest was so big, it made me double over. I curled up into a ball on top of my bedsheets. I couldn't sleep, just fought the tears and heartache with a borken spirit. Memories tried to flood back, but I bit my lip and kept my tears from flowing.

A very long time later, a dream came to me. He was there, but he was just standing there in a black robe, surrounded by shadows. The sadness of all those faces at the funeral was etched in his eyes, and all I wanted to do was run over to him, and... what? But I couldn't move. 

I don't remember anything else- not even waking up, or yelling his name at the heavens, or breaking down to cry. All I remember is the swelling pain in my heart.

Tears streamed down my face like lost souls. The words were so small and insignificant, but I wished with everything I owned that they could bring him back. I screamed it and begged for mercy.

_Why, why, why? Don't let this be happening. I can't do this._

"_Don't leave me_... " 

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If you can guess whose perspective I was writing from at the beginning, and then whose perspective it is at the end (I know it's supposedly the same person, but this can apply to a whole tin canful of HP characters, so there!) then I will give you a million Canadian dollars. Actually, even though that's only worth about a penny in American currency, I can't give that to you, for I am a tightwad. ^_^ Well, it's _true_...

Und abvout zee fiction, vhich vas originally vritten in poem fvormat... is it better dis vay?

Please review, I need to know if this is sad, or funny (I really hope not, it wasn't supposed to be!), or just really stupid.

"Ooh, fire!"

Scabbers, no!

"Ahh! Ahh! Hothothot!"

Scabbers, you dumbass!

"I'm mellllting... melllllting... "

Sweetie? That's the Wicked Witch of the, o, nevermind.

"Hmph."

Conclusion: Review!

"Review!"


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